


Coping Mechanisms

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Drama, Episode Related, Romance, Season/Series 04, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-13
Updated: 2004-02-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 10:11:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12078966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian and Justin disagree on priorities; a bit of speculation based on spoilers I've read for season four.





	Coping Mechanisms

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Disclaimer: Cowlip r0x0rs. Season four spoilers galore; assuming the Cody/Pink Posse arc ends before Vic's death and Brian's blood-work scare, this is sandwiched betwixt them.

* * *

It was, in Brian's retrospection, meant to be a quiet night at the loft. With Kinnetic, his fledgling advertising agency just starting to take off, its senior partner had taken to spending lots of evenings hunched over his computer, or even just sprawled on the couch in front of the television with Justin. (Neither of them tended to watch whatever was on the screen, so it was kind of waste to spend money renting DVDs.)

That was, of course, until Justin had his run-in with that Cody kid, in all of his buzz-cutted, righteous homosexuality. Ever since, the blond had been . . . different; edgier, harder to please, and stubbornly refusing to listen to Brian's advice. The older man enjoyed that his lover had a mind of his own, but the feeling in his gut told him that this little gay gang was going to get Justin in trouble. Or hurt (again). Or both.

"Going somewhere?" Brian asked, glancing up from his computer screen to see a flash of pink stalk by him. With his own drastic hairstyle change and usually piercing but hardened blue eyes, Justin had even started to look the part of a homosexual avenger; Brian was half-expecting him to come home with a "Mom" tattoo on his bicep one of these days.

"Yes", Justin answered stockily, pulling on his tennis shoes. "Out."

"Well, I could use a break, too," Brian said, making a show of stretching and pretending he didn't 'get' Justin's true intentions. "C'mon, let's hit the back room of Babylon." 

"Sorry," Justin lamented quickly. "It's a gang thing tonight."

"The Barbie Brigade?" Brian sneered, unsurprised.

"The Pink Posse," Justin corrected, scowling. "You can still go to Babylon."

Brian didn't respond; he wanted to clarify that the only reason he would have gone was to appease his lover, but that would have sounded too much like whining. And Brian Kinney was no dyke. Still, his ever-present concern for Justin's welfare nagged at him. "What if you end up taking on somebody who doesn't want to be fucked with?" he finally settled on. 

Justin rolled his eyes. "Most homophobes don't, Brian."

"Then why the fuck do you have to bother them?" Brian continued, fixing the boy with a hard stare. "Just let them continue breeding and living in their carefully constructed white-bread hetero-normative societies and become more successful than any of them."

"It's easy for you to say," Justin spat bitterly. "You didn't almost have your brains splattered on the cement with a baseball bat by one of them."

Inwardly, Brian groaned, not having wanted to plunge into *this* again, but finding that he had no choice. "I had to watch yo uget your head nearly bashed in," he said thickly. "It wasn't a great experience on this end, either."

"Then you of all people should understand how important this is to me," Justin argued. 

"To get your head bashed in again, or to be on the wrong end of a gun?" Brian replied hotly.

"To make a difference, to help people in need who normally wouldn't get it; to deal with the fact that I hate feeling like Chris Hobbs' fucking faggot victim almost three years later." Justin gritted his teeth in frustration.

"It's never going to go away, Justin," Brian said with a touch of softness.

"That doesn't mean I can just sit around drinking away the memories when they become too painful or fucking everyone in sight like you do," Justin shot back.

Brian felt his neck flush slightly. "It sure beats ending up needlessly in the obituaries section of the local fag rag", he replied caustically.

"Oh, and my almost dying at the hands of some dickheaded classmate was completely necessary?" Justin extoled, then shook his head. "You know what, fuck you, Brian. Just go to Babylon and fuck as many people as you like and get so fucking drunk that Michael has to drive you home. I'll see you in the morning."

"If you hadn't noticed, my dance card at Babylon has been pretty empty lately," Brian inferred, hoping Justin would get the hint. 

"Yeah, but your ticket to the back room isn't," his lover spat back, unyielding.

"Jesus Christ, Justin, would you lay off?" Brian vacillated, finally losing his patience. "I haven't even fucked anybody but you for weeks."

"I'm sure that's a great sacrifice for you," Justin said sarcastically, his eyes still fixed in a hard stare. The older man, seeing that this angle was getting him nowhere but obtusely arguing himself into a corner, decided to try one last tactic.

"You're never going to forget the past, Justin," he began. "No matter how hard you try. And believe me, I've tried some pretty elaborate fucking ways.

"I'm not going to tell you that you'll ever get over what that fucker did to you, either. You know goddamned well that it changed your life forever. And . . . it changed mine, too," he revealed. Justin looked surprised, but remained silent, urging Brian to continue with his attentiveness to the older man's revelations. 

Brian took a deep breath. "I had to spend seven agonizing minutes with you lying there bleeding on the parking garage floor until the ambulance arrived. I waited for three days before the doctors even said you'd stabilized. I spent every . . . every night watching you sleep." At this, Justin swallowed, and so did Brian.

"I'm glad you feel like taking a stand for yourself after surviving an ordeal like that. You've got balls, Justin, in more ways than one." The boy grinned, despite himself. Ignoring the lump in his throat, Brian forged ahead. "But balls or not, you can still get hurt, and . . . and I don't think I can deal with it again." Justin flinched visibly.

"I can't sit in a waiting room again wondering if you're going to live or die. I don't want Detective Horvath to call me to identify your fucking body in a goddamned morgue after some asshole pumps you full of bullets. I can't . . . I can't watch the person I care about . . . the man I l-love . . ." at this, Brian visibly and audibly stumbled, ". . . bleeding on the pavement again."

"Brian," Justin whispered, unable to formulate anything even remotely conveying with any sort of accuracy the range of emotions running through him. Instead, he crossed the short distance to where the older man was standing and threw his arms around broad shoulders, squeezing his eyes shut to hold back the tears that threatened to spill out.

"Justin. Stay," Brian whispered, stroking the boy's back through the gaudy pink t-shirt. He slipped his hands underneath it and reveled in the satin-y feel of his lover's skin.

"Brian," Justin repeated, glancing up at the brunet and running his fingertips along the chiseled jawline. He leaned in for a kiss and Brian complied, their lips mingling for a long, tender, pleading moment. Brian wrapped his arms tightly around Justin, kissing the blond's forehead in silent apology. 

"I have to go," Justin said at last, sadly. "I have to. I promised Cody. But . . . I'll talk to him and bring up your concerns," he offered, eyes downcast.

"Promise me you won't antagonize too many breeders," Brian said similarly, looking as if he wanted to say more but holding it in. 

"I promise I won't," Justin smiled. "And . . . I'll come back to you, I swear." He kissed Brian's cheek after that, and then laughed. "I feel like Superman or something."

"Does that mean I get to be Lois Lane?" Brian snorted; wouldn't Mikey be pleased.

Justin just smiled. "It means that you're all I think about, no matter where I am or what I'm doing," he said simply. He stepped away from Brian's warm embrace reluctantly and went to grab his jacket. Brian followed him to the door.

"Be careful," the older man instructed sternly. "I want you around for a long time."

"I will," Justin smiled. The two stood for a moment just looking at one another, until Justin broke contact. "I love you, too," he finally said, turning and heading for the elevator. "Later." 

"Later," Brian replied softly, gazing down the hallway until he could no longer see the boy he'd just confessed to caring so pathetically and desperately for.

The loft door echoed as he slid it shut, the noise covering up his heavy sigh. Crossing the room, he picked up the television remote and the TV Guide he'd picked up earlier at the store. He'd heard from Mikey that "Superman" was playing tonight.


End file.
